Souls of Immunity
by Lschults17
Summary: 600 years after Alduin's defeat, a plague is sweeping across Tamriel. Those that have been infected suffer a traumatic death. But this disease is not natural. It was created by Mehrunes Dagon himself. How it entered Nirn is a mystery, but there are few that know how to send it back to Oblivon before the population deteriorates. These people are known as the Souls of Immunity.
1. Chapter 1

**Before you begin reading, I would just like to say that this story takes place 600 years after Alduin's defeat, and this prologue takes place 50 years in the future, after this story concludes. There will be lots of made up locations, characters, and lore, so if you see something you don't recognize, don't sweat it. Enjoy the story!**

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Standing tall, a fifteen minute walk from where Whiterun used to belong was a monument below the red sky. It was built from dark grey stone and was carved precisely. Old, yet still stunning, was the memorium of multiple heroes. Without them, Tamriel would no longer contain any life.

There were three etched tablets that were larger and stood out more than the others. These tablets belonged to the individuals who single-handely prevented a debilitating disease from wiping out the entire population.

The first tablet read this: _Varzo Gurkan: This Redguard sacrificed everything he had for us. For the people of Tamriel. He had even given up his life. Without this man, we would not be standing here in this unforgiving tundra, building this monument. It is imperative that we never forget what he did for us. Now we must make our own sacrifices to prevent anything like the plague that he saved us from from happening again._

The tablet to the left of it had these words: _Farie Koriuth: The Altmer herself was required to guide Varzo Gurkan on his quest in stopping the plague, and to this day she wishes it could have been her who was sacrificed instead. From fighting Daedra to saving lives, this is another name that we mustn't forget._

The final tablet on the right stated: _K'an Adeus: Varzo Gurkan's right hand man, and his most faithful companion. Without Adeus, Gurkan would not have been able to sacrifice himself for us. That is because he would be dead. Adeus gave his life defending Gurkan, and that may have been the biggest loss Gurkan had ever witnessed. Adeus knew it would have been an even bigger loss if it were Gurkan that was killed. Perhaps Adeus is the biggest hero of them all._

Below each tablet was a bowl filled with various offerings. People of all races stopped by and dropped off flowers, gems, and weapons of all kinds. They felt as if they owed these heroes something for their deeds, so donations were a way for them to express their thanks.

While this plague was not even close to natural, it still had the same effect on people as a normal disease. People got infected, had fevers, and they died. But this disease got out of control. That's because it was created by Daedra themselves. A cult, known as Mehrunes' Vectors created the infection themselves. How it entered the realm of Nirn remains a mystery, but how to send it back to Oblivion was discovered, nearly too late.

People had no idea they were infected. That is the reason why it spread so quickly, as a simple shake of hands would transmit the disease. The final few stages of the disease were the most traumatizing. The body begins to freeze on the inside, making the pain feel like hundreds of jarring needles are seeping through the skin. Far too often, people tried to set fire to themselves to stop the pain, but it would just kill them even faster.

No one knew if the insanity was caused by the Daedra, or if it were the people themselves, mainly because no one who was infected by the disease made it out alive. Not a single man, mer, or beast. Except for the "Souls of Immunity." Only nine of them in existence (one representing each race) the year the plague began, these mortals were granted by Akatosh himself resistance to the disease. Only they could save Tamriel, and they did, but one stood out more than the others.

A Redguard that resided in a shack, on the border of The Pale and Hjaalmarch. At twenty-one years old, he was living on his own, constantly working to get by. He was a strong man, always using his axe to chop down trees and improve his household. He would hunt for deer and Mudcrabs, take care of his garden filled with cabbage and carrots, and go fishing for even more food. Every day he would go to sleep at ten o'clock and once he woke up he would follow the exact same schedule: Hunt, garden, fish. That's what stood out to Akatosh about this man.

Instead of constantly being on a quest, searching for gold, or being so caught up in a mission, this man was completely average. He didn't want to be the man that saved the world, the hero that everyone loved. He just wanted to be a simple man. And he was. Until the night the plague came to Tamriel, and he realized what he had to do. It was ironic. He did not want to be a hero, but it is exactly what he would become. His whole entire life was about to change in a flash.

The Redguard's name was Varzo Gurkan.

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 **Prologue is all done! In the next chapter I will introduce some characters and you'll get to see the main story unfold. Quick reminder that this prologue takes place 50 years after the next chapter, so technically next chapter will have happened before this. Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Leaving the Past

_Part One: In Vain_

 _Chapter One: Leaving the Past_

 _Varzo Gurkan 4E 802, Fredas, 3rd of Sun's Dawn_

 _Location: Home, Northern Skyrim, The Pale_

The scar that swept across Varzo Gurkan's left cheek was a reminder to him of why he had left his family and his past behind him. He had made many sacrifices to be able to live out here, on his own. Many of which were difficult to think about.

He had sacrificed his family. A chance at wealth. An easy and lazy life. Visitors often question why he had abandoned his family, and why he had chosen this spot to live. He told all of the adventurers the same thing: "Because it's what I wanted to do. And this is as far away as I could get from them."

While that was part of the reason, he never revealed the full truth. And he never revealed how he had received the scar. When he lived in Hammerfell, he had a sister, a mother, and a father. He loved his sister and his mother, but he couldn't say the same for his father. He was an unloving and selfish drunk. Never once had he showed any affection to his son. But one day he showed violence, and that's how Varzo got his scar.

Sitting in the dark corner of the basement of their old home was a dark object with a face of fear. When Varzo reached the bottom of the staircase, he thought he was too late to realize it was his sister. Standing in front of her was a tall man with a dagger in his hand.

"Stay away from her, Jatius," Varzo boldly addressed his father by his real name.

"What did you just say?" Jatius replied. "You don't call your father by his first name."

"You're not my father," Varzo said. "You never were. Now drop the dagger and back away." Varzo tried hard not to cry. At sixteen years old he had no idea where his mother was, and his father was about to kill his only sibling. He did a great job trying to remain calm.

Jatius spun around and sliced Varzo's cheek. As the blood poured out, his sister began to cry in agony. "Run!" Varzo hissed at his sister. She obeyed him and hurried upstairs. Varzo held a hand on his fresh wound as he saw his drunken father about to smash his head in with a cast iron pot. Varzo rolled out of the way and grabbed the dagger that Jatius had recently dropped. As he remained on the ground, his father continued to pursue him, but once he got close, Varzo jabbed the dagger into his stomach. But that's not all Varzo did.

He stabbed his father repeatedly, each time thinking about what Jatius could have done for his family. How many "I love you's" he had skipped, how many hugs he had skipped, how many family dinners he had skipped, how many "I'm sorry's" he didn't bother to apologize with. Each jab of the dagger was a way for Varzo to let out all his pain.

Varzo threw the dagger on the ground and left it there for good. He never wanted to see any memories of this place again. He left everything he had there. Everything. He took nothing with him to Skyrim but an axe and a pair of clothes. He left his ten year old sister there, not knowing whether she had a mother to take care of her or not. He felt in his heart that his mother was still living.

Never again did he want to see anything like it again. He wanted no memory of it. But the scar across his cheek would prevent him from forgetting every single time he peeked in the mirror. After he killed his father, he knew there was no way he was going to continue living a normal life. But he did his best to start a new one.

Five years later, Varzo sits on top of a boulder with a fishing rod in his hands. He felt the weight of the string being pulled into the Sea of Ghosts, and he began to reel in. He could see how close he was to catching a monster of a fish. As he grabbed a net to haul the fish in, he spotted his reflection staring back at him in the crystal water.

It was the first time he had seen himself in months. The first time he had seen his scar in months. Before he could shake it off, the fish got released from the hook and swam away. Varzo frowned in disappointment as he grabbed his fishing gear and headed back to his shack. A courier stood at his doorstep, waiting for Varzo to approach.

"Hello?" Varzo greeted the courier. He rarely saw strangers pass by. Usually the only people who came out to see Varzo were adventurers.

"The Jarl of Dawnstar gave me this note. He wanted me to deliver it to you." The courier straightened his hat. "Something about not having a land deed."

Varzo opened the note and read it aloud. He cleared his throat and began: "We are aware that you have been living out here in The Pale without a land deed. As you know, you are not allowed to build property in a hold without the Jarl's permission. If you do not come out and pay the fee, we will have to take down the house ourselves."

"Well, um...I better get going now," The courier said as he turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Varzo shouted. "I've been living here for about five years now. Why is the Jarl just now contacting me about this? Surely this must be a mistake?" Varzo scratched his shaved head and played with his small black goatee.

"I'm just a courier, sir. I haven't a clue if it is a mistake or not. Perhaps you should speak to him."

"Where is Dawnstar? I've never been there." Varzo hadn't been to any of Skyrim's capital cities. The second day he made it to Skyrim was when he found the land that he built his cabin on. He had never moved away from the spot.

"It's directly east of here, a very short walk. I can take you there if you'd like." Varzo followed behind the courier. He wore only a greenish tunic and light pants. The climate of Skyrim was definitely harsh, but after living there for many years, he had gotten used to it. Though, even with his built up resistance to the cold, he could feel the heavy blizzard pressing against his body.

After about ten minutes, the two had passed a small mountain and approached Dawnstar. It was surely a bigger village than it was in previous years. If walls were thrown up around it, it would most likely be named a city. Houses stood row by row next to each other, as multiple boats and fishermen were lined up in the docks.

"All these years, I've lived so close to this place and never even had a clue about it," Varzo told the courier. Varzo didn't really "want" to know about it. He enjoyed being isolated from people.

"Aye, it is truly a magnificent village," the courier replied. "Follow me. I will guide you to the Jarl's residence."

Varzo stopped examining the town and continued to wander behind the courier. He had finally stopped and pointed at the Jarl's headquarters. It was an enormous hall on the outside, and looked even bigger once Varzo was on the interior. In the back of the first room was a throne being guarded by a High Elf and a Redguard. Sitting in the throne was a grey scaled creature with two horns pointing upward from its head.

"You're the Jarl?..." Varzo asked, surprised by what he was seeing. "An Argonian?"

"Welcome, friend," The Argonian greeted him as he stepped up from his throne. "I seem to get that reaction quite a lot. My name is Sarelius. What's yours? Why have you come to me?"

"Thank you for the welcoming," Varzo said as he pulled out the note from his pocket. "I was given this note today about the threat to my home. Why is it that you waited until now to contact me about it? And what is the fee I must pay in order to keep it?"

"Ah, yes. The land deed. There has not been very much trouble in Skyrim recently, though I fear that is quickly changing. Many shacks and houses built in the wilds have been burnt down or destroyed. We brought you here to ask you if you would rather live here in Dawnstar. It would be much safer."

"So the land deed was basically fake? I can keep my shack without paying a fee?" Varzo was a bit confused.

"Well, yes...but we don't want to see anymore of Skyrim's people die. I highly recommend you stay here."

"More people die? Who is it that's killing these people? Bandits? I'm quite sure I ca handle a few bandits."

"It's something more powerful than bandits. Sadly, no one has lived to tell us what they saw."

Varzo wasn't nervous about the threat. In fact, he thought the Jarl was lying to him. He wondered if he just wanted him to buy a house so that Sarelius would make more money. "Many thanks for your offer, Jarl Sarelius. But I can't abandon my home. I'll stop by if I see anything suspicious."

"Watch yourself out there," The Jarl replied as Varzo left the hall.

When Varzo was halfway back home, the blizzard had stopped and the sun was up high. The weather looked clear. So clear that Varzo could smell and see smoke coming from the direction of his home.

He was running now, hurrying to see what was going on. At first he thought the Jarl may have sent people to burn his house himself, but his mind quickly changed as he arrived home. Three very tall figures stood in front of them with flames in their hands. Each one of them wearing a black coat with the symbol of Oblivion on the back of it.

Varzo just stood there and watched his home burn to the ground. Ashes and smoke filled the vicinity. Once again, Varzo Gurkan was going to have to live a new life.

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 **The first true chapter is finished! Any questions, PM me. Please leave reviews! I'd like to know what you guys would like to see more of, or what I can improve on.**


	3. Became

_Chapter Two: Became_

 _Varzo Gurkan 4E 802, Fredas, 3rd of Sun's Dawn_

 _Location: Dawnstar, The Pale, Jarl Sarelius' Headquarters_

"It's gone," Varzo informed the Jarl with a frown on his face. "All of it is gone. Everything."

"By the Gods...I fear Skyrim is in grave danger," Jarl Sarelius replied in fear. "The difference is that you survived...You saw these things. What exactly were they?"

"I only saw them with their backs turned, I'm afraid. But I'm quite certain we're dealing with Daedra. On the coats they wore, there was this symbol..."

"What did the symbol look like?"

"I don't know if I can explain it...It almost looked like a set of connected fangs with a circle in between them."

"The Oblivion symbol..." Jarl Sarelius stated in nervousness. "Varzo, I have a very important task for you." The Argonian Jarl's blazing yellow eyes stared into Varzo's own. He could detect Sarelius' seriousness. "I'm sending my two best fighters with you. You're going back to your shack and staying the night to see what you can find out about these Daedra."

A very tall Redguard man and an Altmer woman stepped forward. "The Redguard's name is K'an. The Altmer is Farie," The Jarl told Varzo. "K'an is an expert swordsman and Farie is a master Mage. You three be careful out there."

"I didn't agree to this, you know," Varzo snapped at Sarelius.

"You shouldn't have to _agree,"_ Sarelius clenched his teeth towards Varzo. "Your home is gone. People are dying. You'll be doing a great favor for this town, and for the people of Skyrim. If you do this for me, I will grant you a home and a life here. You won't have to pay a single Septim."

Varzo thought about it for a while. He had nowhere else to go. "Fine, I'll do it," he decided. "But I want a weapon to protect myself with." K'an grabbed an iron sword off a weapon rack and tossed it to Varzo. He grabbed it out of the air with haste.

"Thank you," Varzo said. "Let's get this over with."

As they stepped back out into the cold, K'an and Farie bombed Varzo with questions.

"Where was your cabin?" Farie asked him as she lifted up her hood over her head.

"It's a short walk west. We'll be there in about ten minutes," Varzo responded.

"Stay behind us, Varzo," K'an commanded. "We don't need any more citizens getting killed."

"I don't fear death," Varzo boldly stated. "When did all these attacks start happening anyway?"

"It all started about a week ago," Farie mentioned. "Lots of people escaped from their homes, but they were all killed on their journey to a new place. Some of them didn't even have scars or blood on them. It's quite strange."

"Why am I not dead yet, then?" Varzo wondered. "When I saw the people at my shack, they were just standing there with flames in their palms. They didn't attack me or anything."

"You said their backs were turned, though," K'an said.

"They were, but I stood there for at least five minutes. I assumed they would have heard me or smelled me or something?"

Varzo pointed up a hill and spotted what was left of his house. Light wood was scorched black by the flames, and the only thing left standing in his home was-Varzo halted for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Farie asked as she brushed her long brunette hair out of her face. "Are you okay?"

"It can't be..." Varzo slowly stepped forward to examine the object closer. He leaned down and picked it up, his hands shaking tremendously fast. In his grasp was the dagger he had left in Hammerfell. The dagger he killed his father with. Before he turned around, a loud thud was heard behind him. He looked back and saw nothing, because a bag was thrown over his head.

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 **Short chapter (I'm sorry), but in my opinion a great place to stop. Thanks for reading! By the way, if you haven't noticed I like to name the chapters after song names. The first chapter is called Leaving the Past (by Immortal Technique) and this one is called Became (by Atmosphere), I don't know if I'll continue to do this, but if the song name works out then why not!**


	4. Trying to Find a Balance

_Chapter Three: Trying to Find a Balance_

 _Varzo Gurkan, 4E 802, Date Unknown_

 _Location: Unknown_

Darkness was all Varzo could see, even though his abductors removed the bag from his head a short time ago. He couldn't move because he was all tied up in ropes.

"Anybody here!" Varzo screamed, knowing he was taking his chances. Either no one heard him or no one cared because there was no sign of anyone. Varzo squirmed and tried all he could to escape the bindings, but it was no use. All it caused for him was his chair to flip over. Still, he tried to wiggle his way out, knowing it was most likely his only chance of surviving. Suddenly, a torch lit up the area.

Varzo appeared to be in a small cave with only one exit. It looked as if it was man made. As he peeked up to see who was holding the torch, a tall person wearing a full set of black and red armor moved close to him.

"He's awake," The person said with a robotic sounding voice. He was much taller than Varzo and his face was pale grey with red markings.

Another one of the "humanoids" popped out from the darkness. "You know why you're here, I'm sure?" He said to Varzo.

"No...I don't," Varzo responded without making eye contact. He shifted his bloodshot eyes onto the humanoid's dark red ones. "What are you? Why am I here?"

"Why were you the only one to escape your shack without dying?" The humanoid asked with extreme seriousness.

"I want my questions answered first," Varzo demanded. "What the hell are you and why am I in this cave?"

The humanoid gave Varzo an uppercut with his fist and his nose began to bleed. "I'm a Dremora, that's what. That's all I will say until you answer my question. Why aren't you dead?"

"Why would I be?" Varzo asked him. "I ran away from my home before you could do anything to me."

"But the disease..." The Dremora gulped, stunned that he had failed a mission.

"Disease?" Varzo questioned. "What disease? Is it airborne?"

"He's immune," One of the Dremora said. "He has to be."

Varzo looked around nervously. If they hadn't killed him before, he felt like they would definitely kill him now.

"No one is immune," another Dremora replied. "Mehrunes Dagon made sure of it! Surely someone made a mistake at one point!"

Varzo had to take a minute to process everything. Mehrunes Dagon creating a lethal disease, and having his people spread it everywhere. He began to feel hopelessness as he remained in his chair.

"Dammit, all of you!" The largest Dremora shouted at his smaller friends. He was obviously their leader, the one who asked Varzo all the questions. "We're going to give him a direct dose. If he doesn't die, then he is immune somehow. We'll just kill him anyway."

Varzo breathed heavily and looked at the leader. He knew there was no way out no matter what was about to happen. "Wait!" He shouted at the Dremora. "Before you do this, I must ask...How did you find my old dagger? And why do you have it?"

The leader smiled devilishly as he revealed his razor sharp gauntlets. "These are my tainted gauntlets. I'm going to punch you with them, and you'll be infected. Let's start the experim-"The light from the torches faded as someone knocked them from the Dremora's hands.

The only thing Varzo could see was the small area of light that appeared to be an opening. Varzo heard screams and swords clashing, though. He had no idea how someone could fight in the dark like that.

"Varzo?" A male voice asked him as he continued to crawl towards the exit.

"Shh..." He told the voice, worrying if the Dremora were still alive.

"It's okay, they're gone. They teleported somewhere."

"Who are you?" Varzo asked, not recognizing the voice.

"Hold on, let me grab a torch. There was one hanging on the wall outside this cave." When he returned, the light revealed an old Nord wearing brown monk robes.

"A monk?" Varzo was shocked. "A monk scared them all away? And I don't know how you know my name, either. But if you say you're here to help, then I don't care. Please cut these ropes so I can get up."

"They knew who I was. That's what scared them off."

"What's with the swords clashing then?" The monk undid Varzo's bindings.

"I summoned certain spirits to fight for me."

"I didn't see any spirits," Varzo said, confused. "What's your name? Why did you come here for me?"

"Just follow me," The monk said as he walked out of the cave.

Varzo nodded and scurried out the opening. When he got out, he realized he was no longer in Skyrim. He wasn't complaining though, the weather was beautiful, nice and warm. Lush tropical rainforest surrounded the area. The trees grew very tall, looking as if they were touching the sky.

"Where are we?" Varzo asked, wondering how long the Dremora had him captured. "How long have I been gone?"

"My friend," The monk began. "Welcome to Akavir."

Varzo began to breathe heavily and question if the monk was truly his ally. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long. Maybe a month," The monk said. "Now come, I must reveal to you my 'home,' if you will."

"Why do I need to go to your hom-"

"No more questions," The monk told him. "Not until we get there. Tamriel is in extreme danger. That's why I've made a home here."

"Fine," Varzo said as he followed the monk.

They had arrived about a half hour later. A tall castle-like structure stood high on a beach. "This is it," The monk said. "Let's get inside."

When they got into the castle, they entered a large open room. Sitting there were eight other people. Two of which Varzo knew. Farie and K'an turned to see him. "You're alive!" Farie exclaimed. "It's good to see you here."

Varzo smiled and asked, "Do you know why we're her-"

"No. But we're about to find out," K'an told him and pointed to the monk. He was about to make a speech.

"Welcome to Akavir, comrades," The monk said. "I have brought all of you here for a very important reason. But first, let me introduce myself. My name is Gartas and I am a servant of Akatosh. He has spoken, and he has spoken clearly. Mehrunes Dagon has already brought a disease to Tamriel and without all of your help, it will likely wipe out the population. He's spreading it with his minions, which he calls his "vectors." The Dremora are here too, and I fear the disease has entered Akavir as well. Without all of you, the Daedra will destroy us all."

"Why have you forced us here?" A Khajiit asked. "How did you find us? Surely there is a bigger reason of why we're here?"

"Akatosh himself told me where each of you were, and he granted all of you with a very special resistance. You, my friends, are the Souls of Immunity."

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 **This chapter was mostly dialogue, but honestly dialogue is my favorite part of writing. Things might be confusing to you guys so if you have any questions just PM me and I should be able to answer.**


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